


Fruits Of Your Labor

by Raging_Celiac



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Pre-Squip
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2018-12-14 12:43:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11783406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raging_Celiac/pseuds/Raging_Celiac
Summary: Michael Mell got in car crash. With his only support being to lean on expensive life support to survive, Jeremy knows it's inevitable that the plug will be pulled soon.He was utterly alone.But when Chloe Valentine, one of his major tormentors throughout his time at Middleborough, sees just how much her actions have affected him, guilt drives her to apologize. What she finds, though, is something far more than she expected...





	1. Chapter 1

    Michael Mell was dead. Practically, anyway. It had been a car crash that had gotten him; a random death; an unnecessary one. One that got loads of coverage for a few days as Michael leaned on life support to live.  
   

     The driver he’d nearly crashed with described it with sickeningly vivid descriptors - they were a writer, Jeremy learned from the newswoman as she had given the report - that Mell had averted an outright crash between them by veering off to the left and into a ditch. While turning left, however, Michael ran into a stop sign, which his car had knocked into the air and which had impaled him at the temple. Seeing the beaten-up PT cruiser his best friend had driven for so long lying derelict in a ditch, windshield shattered and front squished against the ground made Jeremy shiver.

  
    Jeremy barely remembered the following weekend; it was a blur of crying his eyes out and staying in his room and lying on his bed whilst staring up at his ceiling fan, letting it wipe away his tears for him. He only remembered in detail two moments: when he got home from the movie he and his dad went to see that night and finding out that Michael was in a coma and on life support. Expensive life support. Your-insurance-company-will-only-cover-it-for-a-few-days life support.

  
    He hadn’t left his room for two days; he hadn’t eaten, showered, or brushed his teeth. He’d only changed his clothes after an hour’s coaxing from his father. Jeremy knew that his skin was sallow as he exited his house; was aware that his deodorant was old and likely didn’t provide adequate masking of his BO; that his hair was a mess and that tear tracks remained on his face.

  
    He didn’t care.  
   

    Let them stare, he thought bitterly as he got on his bus. Let them silently part for him in the halls - not out of respect for his grief but more so that they could tell themselves that they gave him space to grieve and had done something respectable. Jeremy found a window seat and plopped down on it, moodily focusing his gaze on the brush that lay just beyond the sidewalk. It swayed in the gentle late November breeze, as if it were waving happily to him. As if it didn’t contain the ditch that his best friend had gotten impaled in. As if it actually cared.

  
    Jeremy was unaware of looks he got from the person across the aisle to him, because his back was turned to them. Chloe Valentine sat there, the Queen Bee of MiddleBorough, and found some small amount of sympathy festering as she looked at Jeremy. A moment later, a small amount of guilt replaced the sympathy, and she looked away. She’d spent the past two years either putting him down socially or watching as Rich Glowinski or Jake Dillinger taunted him in the halls whenever possible. He’d been just a punching bag of a loser to be dismissed - literally in some cases.

  
    Chloe looked away and back to her phone where and amiable conversation was happening between her two closest friends, Jenna Roland and Brooke Lohst in the group chat. She had just typed something to enter it when she heard shuffling; she glanced across the aisle, seeing that Jeremy had stopped looking out the window and was now fishing around in his backpack for something. But that’s what her eyes noticed second, however. She got a good look at Jeremy’s face, and found herself entranced.

  
    Not because it was extraordinarily attractive (though she knew that Brooke had definitely sneaked a glance or two at it) but because of what it contained; Jeremy’s mouth was a flat, trembling line that told Chloe that the teen was holding back emotions. His skin was sallow, and his eyes were red and puffy. Tear tracks were visible. His hair was unruly and unkempt, clearly having not been cared for. Sympathy festered in Chloe’s gut again.

  
    Shaking her head, and drawing a few glances as blonde curls bounced up and down, she looked back at her phone.

 

* * *

  
    When the bus came to a stop in front of Middleborough High, Jeremy numbly slung his backpack over his shoulders, staring determinedly at the ground. He gripped his backpack straps with white knuckles as he got off, and found that, just as he’d predicted, people were parting in the hall if they noticed him.

  
    He made it to his locker without any difficulty, and put in the combination on muscle memory rather than actual attention. Jeremy zipped his backpack open and got his binder out in silence, noting that all the other people who were doing the same did so with a very noticeable urgency. He felt a sardonic sneer tug at his lips. _They’re afraid the freaks gonna freak out_ _,_ he thought savagely. _But don’t question how the freak got there._

  
    Jeremy slammed his locker shut, spreading a vibration through the lockers next to it. He hooked his arm around his binder and turned in the direction of his first period. He saw the power trio of Chloe Valentine, Brooke Lohst, and Jenna Roland walking in his direction. Probably to Chloe’s locker, which was just down the hall. The teen glared at them. Chloe stopped talking when she noticed Jeremy’s glare.

  
    Their eyes met for a moment; Jeremy’s filled with utter and complete hostility and hatred, Chloe’s unreadable and guarded. Brooke and Jenna glanced at each other, and Jeremy internally expected some nerves to soften his gaze. None came, however, and he soon began walking again. Towards Chloe. Towards someone who had immeasurably more status than himself, and who could sick the football team on him at even the smallest slight. The person who had convinced everybody in MiddleBorough that he was to be ignored and cast aside. He continued walking, not really caring about the consequences anymore. Michael was gone. What else did he stand to lose?

  
    Both Brooke and Jenna realized what Jeremy expected to happen and looked worriedly at Chloe. To their surprise, she stepped out of Jeremy’s way. Jenna, as soon as Jeremy was out of earshot, opened her mouth. A particularly harsh look from Brooke had her closing it before she could speak though. Chloe resumed her stride a moment later, Brooke and Jenna following concernedly in her wake.

 

* * *

  
   

The day went in a blur for Jeremy, until just after seventh period. He was making his way down the hall when he came across Chloe, Jenna, and Brooke again. He internally swore.

  
    “Why’d you do that, anyway?” Jenna asked, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. Chloe hadn’t answered her all day, and she’d popped the question on her twice before. Chloe shook her head.

  
    “What, give Heere some space?” Chloe asked with irritation. “Did you _see_ the look in his eyes? He would have murdered me.” Jenna nodded.

  
    “I wouldn’t be surprised if he decides to just sneak a gun in one of these days,” Jenna said. She leaned over to whisper something into Chloe’s ear, but froze when she glanced around. Jeremy was stalking past them, looking, somehow, even more hurt than he’d looked all day. His white-knuckle grip had returned, though he was grasping the sides of his binder this time. His footsteps were awkwardly stiff, and Brooke was giving Jenna a harsh look again. Chloe, however, noted the small tremor that overtook Jeremy as he past. Guilt festered in her gut again.

 

* * *

  
   

     Chloe spent eighth period uncharacteristically inattentive. She didn’t pay attention as her teacher droned on about The Battle of the Wilderness; she just rolled her pencil between her fingers and stared with unfocused eyes at the surface of her desk. Beige and uninteresting, it didn’t warrant such inspection, and Brooke shot her worried glances as the class wore on, and took extra notes so her friend - who she knew was clearly disturbed - wouldn’t feel even worse because she failed the next test.

  
    When the bell rang, Chloe rose to her feet swiftly, banging her knee against the underside of her desk on the way and ignoring the spike of pain that followed. She was giving Brooke a pointed look as she collected her things. As soon as Brooke had gotten her binder in her hands, Chloe had grabbed her arm. She dragged her friend through the hall, drawing plenty of confused looks as she did so, until she reached an empty classroom. Chloe pushed the door open with such strength that the door knob banged against the wall of the room, drawing yet more curious looks from nearby students. Brooke had barely the time to open her mouth before Chloe spoke.

  
“What was Heere’s last period?” she asked, urgency in her voice. Brooke frowned.

  
“I think he shares it with Jenna,” the girl said. “...they sit next to each other, right?” To that Chloe swore so badly that Brooke clapped her hand over her mouth.

  
“I have to find him,” she said, and with no further words she rushed out of the classroom, leaving a very confused Brooke in her wake.

 

* * *

 

    Chloe didn’t bother grabbing her bag. She speed-walked through the halls, people parting in the wake of the most popular girl in their school. Her eyes held urgency, and she got several second glances from other students. The rumors that would come from this would be rampant, she knew, but that guilt that had festered in her gut on the bus had formed into a simmering flame as the day progressed. After seventh period, however, it had grown into a full-blown inferno.

     The expression on Jeremy’s face was something she could only describe as completely crushed; all the depression her belittling had caused (something she realized with some horror he must’ve learned to mask very well) had been on display. The pain and grief was obvious in his eyes, even though Chloe suspected that he’d convinced himself that he was holding himself together.

  
     He wasn’t, though. 

     Chloe felt like shit. Michael was Jeremy’s only friend, and she knew she was the major reason why; if only Rich and Jake harassed Jeremy, he might’ve still made friends. If jocks pick on you, you might get some sympathy. He might have had another person to help him through this. But as it stood at the moment, Jeremy had nobody - because she’d convinced everybody else besides Michael Mell that he was useless and a pervert. Because, Chloe realised with shock, Michael was stronger than she was. Braver than she was.

     She’d performed in front of crowds, sung in choirs. She thought she had confidence; and she did in a way, but it relied on others. She didn’t have self-confidence. Michael Mell had had self-confidence enough to back the person who everybody else dismissed. Because she convinced everybody else that Jeremy wasn’t worth their time.  
Chloe turned a corner, and stopped in front of a classroom with the numbers 387 above it embossed in gold lettering above the doorframe. She pushed the door open. The sole person inside, a man in a blue-gray janitorial uniform looked up as Chloe entered.

  
     “Sorry, missy,” he said distractedly as he scrubbed the top of a desk. “The teacher left the instant school ended. She’s open for appointments in the mornin’ though.” Chloe stood for a moment, stunned, before swearing again. The janitor looked up, surprised, but before he could comment Chloe had left the room. Panic was rising in her throat. Jeremy wasn’t there.  She exited the classroom with a large amount of worry. She had to apologize. _Had_ to before Jenna could screw it up anymore.

  
     Where would someone like Jeremy go, though? He wasn’t a jock; didn’t do any clubs; didn’t have any friends’ whose houses he could go to. Chloe tried to avoid the obvious answer, the bus, and prayed that wasn’t the case. He’d’ve gotten onto a bus easily by this point. She could try it there, but it would be very public. So public that Jeremy might just chose to ignore her. That could serve her socially, though; if he rejected her sympathy, she’d be the one who was reasonable, the bully who tried to make it up to their victim and wasn’t accepted. For a moment, Chloe considered taking that action. It would be so easy to do. Well, it would be easier, anyway. It would ten minutes at the longest, because Jeremy’s stop was so early. So easy...

  
     A whimper reached her ears.  
  
     It was faint, but there. It came from the other end of the hall, and Chloe could make out a lanky outline dart around a corner, hands covering their face, not a moment later. _Jeremy,_ she thought. He’d seen her before she’d seen him. She chewed her lower lip. She could just claim she didn’t find him in time today; that would fly easily with Brooke, and maybe Jenna, too, assuming Chloe kept a straight enough face. But the guilt would eat her alive by tomorrow if she didn’t even try. Nobody would know, of course, such was her skill in masking things like that, but she’d feel like shit until she did something.

   
     Chloe rushed down the hall and turned the corner lanky had fled down and saw that same outline glance over their shoulder and turn another. She sprinted to the end of the hall and turned that corner, only to see the same thing play out. Somewhat frustrated and beginning to feel pain spreading through her chest, she continued to follow lanky until she turned a corner that lead to a hall with a dead end. At the end, with their legs clutched close to their chest and their head resting on their knees, sat lanky. Chloe took a tentative step forward, feeling uncommonly self-conscious, and lanky looked up. Jeremy’s face looked back at her.

  
     His eyes were red and puffy and shined with tears. His face was streaked with them; the fabric covering his knees was dark with them. His skinny arms were covering his head, and his fingers dug into his scalp.

  
     "The fuck did I ever do to you, Valentine?” he choked out. “I try to grieve but you follow me anyway,” Jeremy’s voice wavered.  “Michael’s gone. You’ve already taken my confidence and social life. What else do you want?” Chloe was silent, stunned by the sight before her.

  
     “What do you want?” Jeremy repeated, voice high-strung and near breaking. “Here to call me pervert again? You didn’t do it in the morning,” Chloe bit down her own snappy response. She didn’t get to open her mouth, though, before Jeremy was speaking again.

  
     “What’s it gonna be this time? My hair? Skin? My acne’s still here. Oh, how about how gay I am - wait, you wouldn’t do that. It’s not original enough,” he continued, and Chloe felt her mouth go inexplicably dry. Jeremy sucked in an unstable breath.

  
     “Um…” she began. Jeremy gave a hearty, bitter laugh.

  
     “Think I haven’t figured it out by now?” he cut her off, looking crazed. “This has been going on for two years, you know. I’m not stupid.” His glare intensified.

  
     “Just leave me to cry my eyes out alone, please.” Chloe blinked several times. Jeremy’s words, so sharp and cutting had left any responses she had lined up in shambles. His eyes, so full of anger and bitterness, had her horrified. It made some part of her wanted to just leave him alone, but she put that part down. She’d already damaged him enough.

  
     “I didn’t-” she started, only to be cut off by Jeremy again.

  
     “You didn’t what? Mean anything in what you said? Meant it all in good fun?” he spat, rising to his feet. “That all of it came out of the bottom of your grinch-sized heart?” Chloe once again found herself speechless, but also realized that Jeremy was beginning to rant now. She took a breath, readying to interject.

  
     “That you just let the joke run too-”

  
     “Jeremy-”

  
     “Don’t interrupt me!” he glared. “You get to see the truth this time! After everything you’ve done to me I need to get this out.” Jeremy rose to his feet. His eyes looked positively manic. He began talk again, ranting about how Chloe and Rich had destroyed his self-confidence, how many times he cried himself to sleep, and many, many other things… Chloe felt utterly awful.

  
     “Jeremy, I’m sorry,” Chloe said, finding her voice unable to stay even. But Jeremy laughed again.

  
     “What’re you sorry for? I thought you would be proud of the fruits of your labor. It did take you two years after all,” Chloe shook her head, opening her mouth. Jeremy didn’t give her the chance to speak. Again.

  
     “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a trainyard to visit.” he said, and he began walking past Chloe.

  
     “Trainyard…” she repeated, confused, under her breath as Jeremy brushed past her. “Wait!” She grabbed his arm.

  
     “ _What?_ "

  
     “Would Michael want you to do this?” she said. Jeremy froze for a moment.

  
     “Michael’s as good as dead,” he said bitterly after a moment. “Now let me go.” He tried to wrench himself from Chloe’s grip, but she dug her nails into his forearm in response. Jeremy bit back his groan and glared at her.

  
     “Would he want you to throw your life away?” Chloe asked. Jeremy’s glare intensified.

  
     “You know those rumors about Michael being a stoner?” she nodded. “They’re true. He got stoned in his basement dozens of times before he got into that crash. And one of those times - after Rich had given him a wedgie that day - he got high while I was there. While he was high, he told me that he loved me.” Chloe blinked, and her grip slackened a little from shock.

  
     “And he ended up kissing me.” Jeremy yanked out of her grip.

  
     “He didn’t remember that. But from then on I realized why he was staying my friend. He’s gone now.” Jeremy fully turned around, and had begun walking down the hall again when Chloe lunged at him. She tackled him to the ground, pinning his arms to his sides. His head banged painfully against the linoleum floor as he went down.

  
     “What the hell?! Get off me!” Jeremy shouted, but Chloe’s grip was like iron.

  
     “I’ve treated you like shit,” she said. “I know the last person you want to talk to right now is me, but I’m not letting you kill yourself if I can do something.” Jeremy looked at her, eyes wide for a moment, before he shook his head.

  
     “So your reputation doesn’t go down the toilet?” he sneered.

  
     “This is a moral thing,” Chloe said coolly.

  
     “You have morals?” Jeremy snorted, squirming underneath Chloe.

  
     “Yes, I do,” she said, fighting back her indignation. “And I know that I wouldn’t forgive myself if the headline tomorrow was about how you got yourself smeared across the front of a train.” Jeremy blinked again, and his squirming stopped for a moment. Chloe didn’t relax her grip this time. She had him calm now - calmer at the very least - and now she had to talk him down.

  
     “What pushed you to this?” she asked.

  
     “You.” Jeremy responded. Chloe flinched.

  
     “Who else?” Jeremy sighed heavily. He looked at Chloe, the person who’d called him pervert or some variant of that word nearly every morning since Freshman year. Her face had concern written all over it. It also displayed an intense resolve. His arms were starting to hurt from how tightly Chloe gripped them.

  
     “Rich and Jake. Dustin sometimes…” Jeremy trailed off,  “...why do you even care?” he said, glare coming back in full. Chloe managed to keep her flinch internal.

  
     “Because I feel guilty,” she said. “As cringe-worthy as it sounds, I never realized you actually got hurt because of what I did,” Jeremy snorted once more.

  
     “Really? You thought that calling someone a pervert every morning for two years _wouldn’t_ affect how they view themselves?” said Jeremy, exasperated. Chloe took a deep breath to keep her tone even.

  
     “I’m trying to talk you out of killing yourself. You’re not making it easy for me.” Jeremy snorted again.

  
     “Why should I? You never made it easy for me to fucking walk in the hallway,” he snapped back. Chloe internally flinched again. Maybe bringing up his family would help her case.

  
     “Jeremy, think about the effect it’d have on your family,” she pleaded. Jeremy raised a brow. “How would your parents react?”

  
     “Parent,” he corrected. “Mom left my dad and I in eighth grade.” Chloe’s eyes widened.

  
     “Well… um… then how would your dad react?” she asked, reeling. How many times had Rich made a yo-mamma joke about Jeremy’s mother in the cafeteria? And how many times did she laugh to those, ignorant of how they probably made Jeremy feel? He opened his mouth, still glaring, but closed it a moment after. His glare faded and he was silent for several moments. Then he shook his head and it returned.

  
     “He wouldn’t care,” he muttered. “The bastard won’t even put pants on when he works from home. He wouldn’t care.” Chloe shook her head.

  
     “He would.” she said firmly. Jeremy opened his mouth, but for once Chloe spoke before he could.

  
     “He would and you know it. So what if he doesn’t wear pants when he works? He’s working to keep you fed every night,” she said. Jeremy shook his head again, but uncertainty flashed in his eyes for a moment.

  
     “He does it because he has to feed his own fatass,” the teen said. Chloe narrowed her eyes.

  
     “If he didn’t care you’d’ve been given to a foster family,” she countered levelly, with slightly narrowed eyes. There was a moment of silence between them. Jeremy’s eyes closed shut. Chloe was unsure of how to interpret the boy’s silence. After thirty more seconds, a tremble raked Jeremy’s form. Silently, a tear slid down his face. His eyes opened.

     They were shining with tears again.

  
     “I… give me a moment…” Jeremy mumbled, but he didn’t move at all. Chloe stared at him. His fighting had stopped completely. Realisation washed over him in one massive wave, feeling as if he’d just slid ice down the back of his throat. Jeremy shook his head.

  
     “I need my phone,” he said shakily. Chloe raised a brow.

  
     “I promise I won’t try to get out.” Jeremy said, conviction in his voice. Slowly, Chloe released him from her grip. He did exactly as he said he would. He slid his phone out of his back pocket - a flip-phone. Chloe resisted the urge to shake her head at the outdated thing.

  
     She got up off Jeremy, and he rose to his feet. He didn’t try running. Instead, he entered a phone number.

  
     “Dad?” he asked. Chloe watched him guardedly, ready to tackle him again if she needed to. But she didn’t have to.

  
     “Can you pick me up from school? I… missed the bus.” he said. Chloe wasn’t able to make out what Jeremy’s father’s response was, but by Jeremy’s expression, she felt she had a decent judge of it. Jeremy folded his phone up and put it back in his pocket. He looked up at Chloe with a smattering of red on his face. He took a deep breath.

  
     “I-I’m sorry you had to see that…” Chloe held up a hand.

  
     “I’m the one who needs to apologize,” she cut in. “I’m the reason you’re even in this state.” Jeremy opened his mouth, then closed it. He felt a supreme awkward silence fall between them. Chloe took a breath.

  
     “So I’m sorry. For everything.” she said uncomfortably, and she stepped toward Jeremy. He took a reflexive one back. Chloe shook her head, and in swift motion, she’d grabbed Jeremy’s hand. His eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hair. Chloe pumped his arm twice.

  
     “How about we start over?” she said uncertainly. Jeremy felt another one of his patented blushes coming on within moments.

  
     “T-that would be… nice.” he said, then suddenly his fingers were no longer entwined with Chloe’s. He gestured behind her and took a step back. She looked over her shoulder; Brooke was rushing down the hall and (much to her chagrin) Jenna wasn’t far behind her. Chloe turned to them. Brooke skidded to a halt before her, hands on her knees, panting.

  
     “It-” she breathed, “took - me - five minutes to find you,” Brooke said. “What’re you doing here?” she asked, straightening her back. Chloe opened her mouth, but Jenna coming to a stop had her closing it. She glanced back at Jeremy, who was blanching. She gave him a ‘I’ll handle this’ look and jerked her head in the direction of Brooke and Jenna. Jeremy didn’t need telling twice.

  
     Swiftly, he passed all three girls, shooting Chloe a final, very sheepish look as he turned the corner.

  
     “What was that about?” Jenna asked promptly after Jeremy had left. Brooke, still catching her breath, couldn’t find the energy to glare at her. Chloe shrugged.

  
     “I think he’d want it to stay between us,” she said, hoping to appear nonchalant. Clearly, though, she hadn’t, as Jenna smirked.

  
     “You didn’t..?” she started keenly. Chloe glared at her, raising her right hand threateningly.

  
     “No,” she said with conviction. “I didn’t kiss him, suck him off, or fuck him,” Jenna’s smirk became more entrenched. Brooke, though, slapped her arm.

  
     “You have a dirty mind,” she said fiercely. “And besides, he’s supposed to be the pervert. Unless you want that to change, Jenna?” Roland’s face flushed, and she blinked hard.

  
     “N-no - I was just wonder-” Chloe chuckled darkly.

  
     “-Ing if I got it on with a nerd?” she said, and Brooke felt a grin tugging at her lips. Jenna looked between them, mortified, and shook her head. She opened her mouth again, but Chloe wasn’t looking at her.

  
     “Brooke, I think that Jenna needs some time alone,” she said loftily. Brooke nodded and followed her down the hall and around the corner, leaving a very confused and shocked Jenna behind.

  
     “So, what _did_ happen?” she whispered eagerly as soon as she was confident the pair were out of the well-known hearing range of Jenna. Chloe shook her head.

  
     “I still think he’d want it to stay between us,” she responded. Brooke gave her an appraising look, though she stayed silent. The two walked in silence until they reached Chloe’s locker, when she saw Jeremy and another, broad-shouldered figure near his own. Brooke’s eyes widened, but Chloe simply tried to catch Mr. Heere’s eye.

  
     Eventually she did, and she tried to pack all the emotion of that day into one look, and must have succeeded to a degree, because Mr. Heere shot her a glowing smile after a moment. Then he slipped an arm around Jeremy’s shoulders and lead him out of sight.

  
     Brooke was giving Chloe a bemused look and she shrugged again.

  
     “I think it’s better if it stays between us.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The direct aftermath of chapter one. Get's decently angsty toward the end, so that's fun.

      **"So, what** happened?" Brooke asked in a whisper, looking at Chloe pointedly. Her eyes were alight with curiosity so intense Chloe thought that they belonged to Curious George. They were both at the Pinkberry, and Chloe had taken care to chose a particularly out-of-the-way table. The pitch-black wireframe chair Brooke sat it in creaked as she leaned toward, so she was only supported by two legs of it. Her face wasn't too far from Chloe's, her chin supported by intertwined fingers and elbows uncomfortably set against the equally dark wireframe table the Pinkberry used for dining outside. Chloe shook her head. 

     "I  _told_ you," she said in an exasperated voice, stirring her frozen yogurt absentmindedly, "It's better if it stays between us." Brooke frowned, and she briefly wondered if she could put on puppy-dog eyes and get what she wanted, before dismissing the idea. She looked over Chloe's face, trying to read her expression, but only managed to glean a "please-stop-asking-you're-ticking-me-off" state. After another moment, Brooke reluctantly leaned back, settling her chair legs back on the ground and taking a slightly deflated bite of her cotton-candy frozen yogurt. Chloe internally felt tired, and glanced around in a slightly paranoid manner; if there was anything she'd learned about Jenna Rolan from before Michael Mell got himself impaled by a pole, it was that that girl could talk with speed on par with a professional auctioneer. Briefly, Chloe thought back to the time when only mere minutes after it had happened, Jenna had notified her that Rich gave his hair a neon-pink makeover after losing a bet with Jake Dillinger. 

     For a moment, Chloe almost managed a smile, and then the memory of Jake Dillinger came back to her and it fell abrupdtly, leaving the teen with the intense need to kick something. She settled for taking a riskily-sized spoonful of frozen yogurt to get some of the tenseness out, but realized her mistake a moment after. And as if reading her mind, the brain freeze kicked in, and Chloe clutched her head, gritting her teeth, glowering stoically at the table.

     "Bitch," she muttered under her breath, stabbing her spoon into her frozen yogurt. Brooke had finished getting her perfectly-chosen spoonful of yogurt by that point, and her frown deepened. 

     "Jeremy's got you really off," she commented, and Chloe looked up at her, noting that she said  _Jeremy_ and not just used his last name. She decided not to comment on it. 

     "You think?" she said, taking her hand away from her head and pushing her yogurt away from her. Chloe really wanted to say  _How would you react to talking somebody out of suicide?_ but knew that if anybody overheard her and told Jenna she'd be under suspicion of using steroids as she spread the news. Chloe groaned, narrowing her eyes toward a chalkboard in front of a Five Guys across from the Pinkberry that read 'Halloween Sale! Burgers and Orange sodas buy one get-one-free!' despite the fact that there was still a weekend between today and October. A group of sweaty jocks whose shirts had stains to show their most recent practice entered it, and one of them glanced back at Chloe and shot her a crooked grin. Internally, Chloe ground her teeth. At least Jake kept himself clean. 

     "You know what mean," Brooke told Chloe, snapping her back to reality in a clipped voice, "He's done something to get you like this. I can see it." Chloe shook her head, glancing in the window of the Pinkberry and flattening a rebellious strand of it after she did so. 

     "Bull," she responded defensively, "It's Jenna. What's she gonna say?" Brooke took another spoon's worth of yogurt, wincing slightly as it went down her gullet, looking thoughtful. She set her spoon back into her yogurt, less violently than Chloe, and gave her friend a sympathetic look. 

     "Probably what you deni-" Brooke began, but Chloe cut her off. 

     "I didn't _deny_ anything. I was telling the truth." Brooke blinked, and raised an eyebrow at her friend. 

     "Nobody's gonna believe you if you say that, you know," she stated, and seeing Chloe's eyes flash, added quickly, "Not that I don't." Chloe's eyes were still narrowed somewhat, and she tried to detect any sign of dishonesty on Brooke's part. She found none. Chloe sighed. 

     "I'm sorry. It's just... weird. I didn't go to school thinking what would happen would happen. Does that make sense?" asked the teen, and Brooke shrugged. 

     "It's fine. But you know I'm right. Jenna will say what you said didn't happen. And we need some convincing way to deny her accusations or they'll make you apoplectic." Brooke said seriously. Chloe frowned.

     "Since when did you say 'apoplectic'?" she asked. Brooke blushed lightly.

     "I do read, you know," Chloe grinned at her.

     "It's Twilight, isn't it?" Brooke's face flushed.

     "Shut up." she snapped, thought she glanced away when she spoke. "Now do you want my help or not?" Chloe nodded, grin disappearing alarmingly fast. 

     "Yeah," Chloe said earnestly, tensing when she saw two cheerleaders enter the Pinkberry, heads huddled close together as they whispered to each other. One of them realized Chloe tracking them just as the pair was entering the frozen yogurt joint, and her eyes grew to dinner plates as she tugged at her friend's arm. Her friend looked slightly peeved, but followed her friend's wild gesturing and also began to gawk. Chloe had the intense desire to fling a spoonful of yogurt at them, if for nothing else to see how long it'd take the school to wash out chocolate stain from the garishly silver cheerleading uniform both girl's wore. Instead, however, she put on the most "Do-you-have-something-say?" expression she could muster and beginning to glare at them. A few seconds later, both cheerleaders bustled into the Pinkberry. 

     Letting out a long exhale, Chloe managed to get her nerves under control as Brooke nervously ate another spoonful of her yogurt. 

     "I'm fine," Chloe said, sounding like a dragon who'd just fought back a sneeze, "I'm fine." Brooke wasn't convinced, but she knew what happened when Chloe got pissed, so she nodded slowly. 

     "Right... now, down to business." 

     The five-minute silence that followed was indicative of how the "Business" went. 

     "I'm going to be crucified tomorrow," Chloe muttered miserably, her yogurt completely melted. Brooke shook her head and opened her mouth, but couldn't find anything to counter Chloe's statement. Glumly, she got up and made a beeline for the mall's parking lot, with Brooke awkwardly on her heels the entire way. When the pair got to Brooke's car (In reality, Chloe knew her mother owned it, but she didn't exactly stop Brooke from taking it) Brooke hastily unlocked it, still nervous at the way her friend kept glaring at each crack like it spat on her top. Chloe got in stiffly, still containing an intense desire to leave in a hole in her bedroom wall. She was completely silent as Brooke drove to her house, and when she saw the white picket-fenced front lawn, Chloe fought the need to cringe. She hated her family; their thoughts on how their daughter should act seemed to stop around the 1950's, and so Chloe found herself constantly trying to see if anybody was trying to sneak a glance up the endless amounts of skirts they bought her at school, not to mention how she felt whenever her mom would sit in the living room with a rerun of some godawful old TV show.

     "Thanks," Chloe said to Brooke in a dull monotone as she got out of her friend's car. She collected her satchel from the backseat and slung it over her shoulder, and she saw a leaf falling silently from the large oak tree that made mowing her family's front lawn a nightmare for her father. Mutely, the leaf fell to the ground, and Chloe snorted derisively, feeling bitterness swell up inside her. Brooke drove off, and saw Chloe walk up to her front door with the manner of someone who'd just been sprayed with pepper spray and told not to let out a single sneeze. 

 

* * *

 

     "Oh, you're back!" Mrs. Valentine said enthusiastically, wearing a floral-patterned blouse and a skirt that went down to her knees when she saw her daughter. She was emphatically white to the point that Chloe shook her head in exasperation. 

     "Are you trying to get a prize for best Casper the Friendly Ghost cosplay?" she muttered, and Mrs. Valentine frowned. 

     "Casper the Friendly Ghost? Honey, ghosts aren't real." she said, and Chloe ground her teeth.  _You only say that because dad pissed himself on Halloween last year when some kid with a bedsheet jumped out,_ she thought. Mrs. Valentine tilted her head to the side.

      "Is something wrong, honey?" she asked, placing a hand on Chloe's cheek. Daughter jerked back from mother, wishing she still had some frozen yogurt on her so she could fling it at her mother. Everything that Chloe found annoying about her - her relentless positivity and seemingly endless amount of smiles she'd have everyday - her submissiveness to her father, everything seemed multiplied tenfold at the moment. Chloe resorted to digging her painstakingly-manicured nails into the strap of her satchel to vent her feelings. Mrs. Valentine looked even more concerned. 

     "Would you like some dinner, honey? The meatloaf just got out of the oven," she said, grabbing Chloe's arm and directing her toward their kitchen. The smell of meatloaf carried through the open-air space, and while Chloe should've had a watering mouth from it, she instead felt bile beginning to climb up her throat. Her mother wasn't the best cook to begin with, and meatloaf was one of the few things she could make really well; the problem was, that was all she made, and Chloe had had it so many times that the thought of eating it made her stomach lurch. She yanked out of her mother's grip, freeing her arm, and took a step back. Alarmed, Mrs. Valentine turned to her daughter, and Chloe shook her head. 

     "I have homework to do," she said quickly, and then spirited herself up to her room. Chloe was supremely aware of how damp her hand was in comparison to the polished wood bannister as she climbed the stairs, passing pictures of her from previous years; her tenth birthday, where Brooke and Jenna were both sitting beside her, grinning widely at the new set of foundation her family had gotten her that year; her twelfth birthday, the year when her puberty had hit, and Chloe found that Brooke and Jenna were also in that picture, each holding one of her hands as she blew out the cake. Scattering the rose-tinted nostalgia that fell like a fog over her mind, Chloe turned the knob on her door and unceremoniously tossed her bag onto her bed. It landed with a  _thump_ and Chloe let out another long sigh. 

     Her room was large for a bedroom, with a luxuriously-sized bed up against the far wall with a knitted comforter that would've sent giggles reverberating off the walls of Middleborough easily covered the bed and hung over the sides, and while Chloe often wished it was any other color than the lilac-turquoise mix her mother had knitted it in, it was easily the warmest thing she'd ever found. She flopped down onto it, right next to her bag, a rarity for her, and closed her eyes for a second when she hit the mattress. She folded her hands behind her head, staring vaguely at the ceiling, feeling exhausted. Not the kind of exhausted that comes from a healthily challenging day, just exhausted. Chloe felt like she'd actually tried to run the mile her teacher had assigned during gym that day. She half-expected to feel a burning sensation in her chest, but was left with no such feeling. Instead her room was silent, leaving her with the weight of her thoughts. 

     The first ten minutes or so after whatever her early afternoon was, Chloe had felt happy. Like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders, even. But by the time she and Brooke had arrived at the mall for a snack at the Pinkberry, her elation had faded with the crushing realization that she'd just ticked off her best informant. Jenna Rolan was dangerous social force, and something Chloe had spent far too long corralling to be treated the way she had been; the girl could gossip like no-one else at Middleborough, and judging by how those two cheerleaders had stared at her, Chloe hazarded to guess that she'd moved fast with the idea that she got into her head about what happened in that hallway. The teen realized with a small start that Jeremy had been red-faced as he brushed past Jenna and Brooke, something that both of them had to have noticed. The strange thing, to Chloe at least was that that answer still left some small part of her unsatisfied. She'd dealt with rumors before - she wouldn't have gotten to her social affluence without a thick skin - and that was more aggravating than truly unsettling. 

     It had to be something else; the day that she was barely holding back her snippiness because of rumors, Chloe promised herself, she'd start dying her hair black. And so for several minutes Chloe lay on her bed, hands behind her head, only accompanied by silence. She reviewed everything that had happened that day, fro the bus to her little whatever-you-call-it with Jeremy, and found that she could really only point to one realistic cause:

     Jeremy. 

     Jeremy Heere. Geeky, weedy, best-friend-is-a-stoner Jeremy Heere. His actions had her emotionally off-kilter. He'd shouted at her, raved and ranted in front of her, not giving her a an opening to even cut in a counter argument. But, again, the emotion Chloe expected to rise up didn't come; she knew for certain that in any other circumstance she'd've been shouting right back at whoever wasn't letting her speak, or at least planning arguments to break them down the next day. But she wasn't. She was just laying there, and for several more minutes she did exactly that, unable to find it in herself to blame Jeremy for the things he'd said. And then she wasn't in her room.

     She was in a hallway. But not just any hallway in Middleborough, the hallway from only a few hours previously; the lighting was dim, coming from a cracked fluorescent light that ran the length of the ceiling. It sputtered and flickered, giving it an eerie sense of ominousness, and Chloe a small shiver. For several moments she simply stood there, trying to peer into the dimness of the hall; she made out lockers, dented and worn so they looked like they were keeling over. Chloe took a small, cautious step forward, her boot clacking loudly in the stillness of the hall. 

     A whimper reached her ears. 

     Chloe blinked, and she at least realized that at the end of the hall was a figure huddled against the wall, knees tucked into their chest and arms draping over their head. They shook before they spoke. 

     "The fuck did I ever do to you, Valentine?" they choked out, and with alarm Chloe realized that that was Jeremy's voice. He looked up at her, and she saw that his hair was a rat's nest and his eyes red and puffy. Tear tracks traced down his face, making unnaturally pointed lines. Chloe stared at Jeremy, barely able to comprehend what she was seeing; Jeremy was a nerd, not a horror-movie villain. Jeremy got up, slowly having a glare form across his face; his eyes flashed different colors, going from his blue to Madeline's green, and then back to his blue again. 

     "Michael's gone. You've already taken my self-confidence and social life. What more do you want?" he said, voice high-strung and exasperated. Chloe was transfixed, and she swore that for a moment he was wearing Madeline's signature blouse and jean shorts. Jeremy sucked in a breath. 

     "What's it gonna be this time? My hair? Skin? My acne's still here. Oh, how about how gay I am - wait, you wouldn't do that. It's not  _original_ enough." his voice turned venomous as he spoke, and Chloe wanted to take a step back. Somehow, she managed to drag her voice out of her throat, but it wasn't the authoritative pitch she normally had; instead it was a soft, trembling note that barely could be heard. 

     "Um..." Chloe began, but Jeremy barked out an in equal parts harsh and hearty laugh. It echoed tinnily in the hall, causing Chloe to shiver once more. Jeremy's expression shifted, and for a moment his voice was at least a dozen other voices that spoke in sync. 

     "Think I haven't figured it out by now?" Jeremy said, a dozen people's worth of spite in his voice. It was so loud it made Chloe's ears ring. "This has been going on for two years, you know. I'm not stupid." Chloe was pretty sure she made out Madeline's voice in the conglomeration that left Jeremy's mouth, but it fought against eleven others for recognition. Chloe's mouth felt dry as the Sahara; her ears were still ringing from Jeremy's speech, and she had the intense desire to cover her ears but also found that she was seemingly frozen to the spot. 

     "Leave me to cry my eyes out alone, please." Jeremy said, but he didn't move; his expression's best comparison to Chloe would've been dynamite whose fuse was about to burn up. His fists had clenched, and his eyes were now switching colors so rapidly that just looking at them left Chloe feeling light-headed. She directed her gaze to the tiled floor of the hallway, feeling guilt boil up inside her. Jeremy took another step forward, an undeniable menace about him.

     "I-I didn't-" Chloe stuttered, but Jeremy chuckled darkly, effectively cutting her off. His glare intensified, which was made all the more unsettling by how his eyes were a constantly-shifting kaleidoscope of colors. 

     "You didn't what? Mean anything in what you said? Meant it all in good fun?" Jeremy's tone had turned manic, and Chloe's every instinct told her to sprint in the opposite direction. The only problem was that she couldn't summon the will to move her muscles; it was like Jeremy's very being was slightly hypnotic to her, always capturing back her attention whenever it looked like she just might be able to do something. 

     "That you just let the joke run too-" 

     "Jeremy-" Chloe broke in weakly, feeling faint, and Jeremy swept forth a few paces, his cardigan fluttering around him, putting mere feet between him and Chloe. 

     "Don't interrupt me!" he shouted, voice ringing like a gong inside Chloe's head; and like the gong, it was uncomfortably foreign to her. "You get to see the truth this time!"

     As if his words were some sort of signal, the tiles and lockers of the hall began to flutter away, like a strong wind was carrying them. Then Jeremy began to grow; first to eight feet tall, then ten, and then twenty. Chloe's eyes went wide, and Jeremy glared down at her, beginning to take a score's-height step toward Chloe; she should've been moving, but it was all too much for her mind to take in. Terror gripped her, and she let out and ear-splitting shriek.

 

* * *

 

     _"_ Chloe!" 

     Chloe felt strong grip on her shoulder, and her eyes were wildly wide; she continued to scream, drowning out a voice that sounded intensely familiar to her, and thrashed about, kicking desperately to get out of whatever was grabbing her. The image of Jeremy's kaleidoscope eyes was burned across her vision, as was his hateful glare. Chloe shook her head frantically, shouting louder and kicking harder. At last she must've hit something, because there was a loud 'Umph!' and she felt her shoulder come free. She continued to thrash, however; she wanted to - no,  _needed_ to get away - to move away from the twenty-foot Jeremy Heere that was about to step on her. And so she lurched to the right, running into something hard and then not a moment later feeling her head bang against something. 

     Chloe blinked, and her thrashing stopped; she wasn't in the hallway anymore. She was face-to-face with the bleached carpet of her bedroom. For a moment, Chloe felt panic; how'd she get here? Jeremy had stepped on her. Was she dead? In the ER? Chloe's screams died in her throat as it was replaced with silent, intense panic. Nothing made sense; her head was fuzzy, and her bewilderment and confusion mixed with her panic, making her want to scream again. 

     "Honey?" came a soft voice from over her shoulder. Chloe jumped and rolled right into the side of her bed. The impact made her eyes water, but it did snap her into clarity; that voice she'd heard was her mother's. Her mother was there. Why? Had she heard her? Chloe rolled over, letting out a protracted groan as she did so, and saw her mother crouched down beside her. Her face had worry written across it in all capitals and bold, and Chloe blinked again. Her mother gently took hold of her shoulder, and Chloe saw her father's brown loafers and the cuffs of her black jeans. He lowered himself down to his wife's level and his lightly-bearded face looked at Chloe all-seeingly. Mrs. Valentine pulled Chloe up to a sitting position against the side of her bed, and she put dainty hands on her shoulders. 

     "You gave us quite the scare, honey," she said, looking relieved Chloe wasn't screaming again. "And your father, well... quite a hit." Chloe looked to her father, who's right arm was swelling slightly around a red spot on the joint. She paled. Mrs. Valentine was either oblivious to this or didn't notice, because she put a hand on her daughter's face and wiped away a tear with her thumb. 

     Tear?

     Chloe jerked back,slamming her head once more against her bed. She swore and clutched her head. Her parents looked at each other uncertainly. Then Chloe got up... and was immediately reduced to clutching at her comforter to support herself. The blood rushed to her head all in one moment, so for a second she stood at her full height, and then not one moment later it felt like someone had tossed her into an overdriven tilt-a-whirl. Mr. Valentine rushed to support her, placing his hand on her back to steady her. Chloe saw his workshirt ripple slightly at the speed of his movement, and she took a deep breath. She was safe, she told herself; it had just been a dream. Nothing had actually happened: there was no twenty-foot Jeremy, there wasn't any hallway, and there wasn't any eyes that could flash different colors. It was just her and her parents and her room. Chloe felt a small amount of calm for a moment, and then the thought struck her like a linebacker's tackle. 

     There  _was_ a Jeremy Heere. 

     There was Jeremy; everything he'd said had actually been vocalized by him. Every clench of the fist and venom-laced statement had been real. And that Jeremy was, as Chloe saw it, functionally alone for the moment. He didn't have anyone to voice his problems to; if Chloe was honest with herself, Jeremy hadn't told his father his true thoughts. She knew that because she wouldn't do that if she was being truthful. And like that, her calm disappeared, replaced with hot, boiling guilt that sprang up like a geyser inside her gut. Chloe bit her lip nervously, and then she straightened herself. No blood rushed to her head, and her inner ear was staying still, so she very quickly brushed past her father. He tried to get ahold of her arm, but Chloe had had experience with Rich Glowinski. She just managed to slip to the right distance, and she'd rushed to her door as her mother was catching up with her. 

     "I need a shower," she said quickly. She prayed her mother and father would accept that answer, because she turned the knob on her door and sprinted to her bathroom, locking herself inside as her mother and father were just catching up to her.

     Chloe leaned back against the door, letting out a long breath. Guilt was roiling inside her again, and she wanted to punch something; the image of Jeremy's kaleidoscope eyes came back for a moment, only to be replaced a moment later with the real memory of his face when she'd found him. Chloe saw the tear tracks that ran down it, the red puffiness of his eyes, and his frazzled hair too clearly for comfort. 

      _The fuck did I ever do to you, Valentine?_

     Chloe bit her lower lip and shut her eyes tightly, trying calm her hyperventilating breathing. She'd believed she'd made it up to Jeremy, but her heart clearly had other ideas. For several more moments, Chloe stood with her back pressed against the bathroom door, tensed as she attempted in vain to set herself right. Later in life, Chloe wouldn't remember clearly how she did it, but she managed to push herself off the door and open her eyes. She was a mess. 

     Her hair, which she'd gotten up at five to get just right, was in disarray, blonde curls sticking out in random directions, with single frayed hairs making her look like she'd just been electrocuted; the mascara she'd applied at six was running wore than it ever had, making Chloe look like a melodramatic goth who'd broken down; ironically, now  _her_ eyes were red and puffy, sparkling with water waiting to fall out and give her face tear tracks, too. With an unsteady hand, Chloe wiped her eyes dry, getting mascara on her hands so she looked like a bad skeleton costume with the colors inverted. The teen washed her hands and grabbed a towel, wiping her face down and leaning forward on the counter, slowly feeling her breathing settle into a somewhat healthy pace. Her guilt still burned inside her, but she could finally manage it. 

     In the silence, Chloe tried to discern whether her parents were behind the door or not, and after a few moments, she decided that they'd went downstairs to give her some time to think to herself. She half-wished that they'd break down the door, if only to give her a distraction from the emotions toiling inside her. Shakily, she let out a deep breath, using a hand in a vain attempt to tame her hair. Then she looked in the mirror again, and she wanted to puke. She didn't look like a queen bee; she looked like an emo girl who'd just got rejected by a jock. For a space she debated whether or not to call Brooke, because for all of her friend's obsessiveness about boys, she could hug really well. her hand was halfway to her pocket when it abruptly jerked back and Chloe shook her head. Brooke didn't need to be bothered with her nightmares; tomorrow would probably be hell as it was, and Chloe knew Brooke'd have her hands full beating back wannabees.

     So Chloe stripped herself and tossed her clothes into a corner of her bathroom, putting her phone in the middle of the pile in the hopes it wouldn't get water on it, and stepped into her family's shower. It was an expensive all-glass shower that had a door but lacked a curtain, and Chloe's feet felt warm against the cold tile of her bathroom floor as she closed the door. She turned the water on an set it a tad hotter than she'd normally have it, and she flinched slightly from the heat. Nonetheless, she shrugged it off after a few moments and grabbed a bottle of conditioner from the a wire-frame shelf built into the shower wall. The next fifteen minutes went by in a nondescript blur as Chloe cleaned her hair until it all settled neatly just past her shoulders. The images from her dream faded and Chloe even began to smile a bit as she turned the shower off. Quickly afterward, she left it and grabbed a large, white fluffy towel and wrapped it around herself, sighing in brief contentment. Maybe, she thought hopefully, just maybe, tomorrow wouldn't be so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. Some of you may have noticed that I gave this story a pairing a bit ago, and there isn't a chapter limit anymore. That's because I'm making this into an actual story! :D
> 
> There aren't many Chloe/Jeremy stories out there, so I decided to try my hand at one. Will it work out? Hell if I know. And to answer the question; asof right now I'm not sure whether to include the SQUIP or not. I'd put it as an outlier possibility though. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter. Please give me a kudo if you enjoyed it, bookmark it if you think it's worth your time, and feel free to tell me what you think of this story. 'Till next time. - Raging Celiac


End file.
